


Unconditional

by majortom



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (as in no money Draco), Banter, Christmas Fluff, Harry/Draco - Freeform, M/M, Muggle London, Poor Draco, luna is special, passing notes in class, ravenclaws, secret corridors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-15
Updated: 2014-04-07
Packaged: 2018-01-08 20:38:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 13,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1137130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/majortom/pseuds/majortom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes you just have to write the Draco Malfoy Finally Tells his Father to Bugger Off story. Featuring: independent!Draco, confusing!Harry, Ravenclaws, tattoos, and finding out how much of Lucius' wisdom was really just bullshit. [This is abandoned, not finished.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Ever since Draco Malfoy was a young child, he knew that love was conditional. After all, it was the most logical way to love someone. When his father disappointed the Dark Lord, he was punished and had to work hard for forgiveness. In the same way was Draco raised.

_"Only idiots love unconditionally, son. Only fools forgive you everything. Am I a fool?"_

_"No, Father."_

_"Then you can see that I won't stand for this kind of behavior."_

Draco was so scared he would lose his father's love that he always tried to please him. Never said anything against him. Worked tirelessly to master fencing and dark spell casting and Latin and all the things he was taught. Never fought back. Draco wanted to be exactly like his father. Until one day. Not just any day, but his seventeenth birthday; his day of Marking.

\---

It came to him in a rush. He watched his father grovel before the Dark Lord, begging forgiveness for another failed plan and offering his son as a faithful servant in payment. He felt a familiar feeling of disgust and nausea. Draco Malfoy was _embarrassed_ of his father. After all the things the Dark Lord had done to Lucius, all the pain he caused and all the impossible things he expected, his father still wanted to please him. It went against everything he had been taught but it was true. He could see love and fear, pleading and cowardice, submission and himself all reflected in his father's eyes. It was as though Lucius was Draco and the Dark Lord was Lucius and in that moment, Draco realized that unconditional love went both ways. It wasn't right to simply try and try to gain his father's love. And so, while that Dark Mark was burning its way through his arm, Draco realized that he didn't love his father. After all, his father had done nothing to deserve it.

\---

"See, I got this one done when I was pissed, and I really want it covered up," Draco told the Muggle shop-owner.

"Why? It's pretty cool, mate. A bit rough, I could clean it up for you--"

"That won't be necessary. I want it covered up."

The Muggle sighed. "Alright, you're the boss. Mind if I take a picture?"

Draco started. "Why?"

"I want to add this design to my collection. I've never seen anything like it. Skulls, yeah, snakes, yeah, tribal, yeah, but this is way cool."

Draco thought for a moment how dangerous it might be for unsuspecting Muggles to be walking around with the Dark Mark. How they would be branded with the same symbol that, in the Wizarding world, meant their downfall. He smirked at the irony. "Yeah, go ahead."

\---

Draco strode into the Manor after a relaxing few hours at a Muggle coffee shop. It was down the street from Diagon Alley and had a miniature library of books strewn about shelves and end tables. Wizarding books generally fell into three categories; texts, badly-written romance novels, and feel-good autobiographies.

Draco was developing quite a taste for Muggle literature.

He walked past his father’s study and surprisingly, the door was open. That wasn’t a good sign.

"Son, come here."

Draco walked into the room. Once he was standing in front of the desk, Lucius said, "Show me your arm.” Draco wasn’t taken off-guard: his father knew everything. It was only a matter of time. He lifted his sleeve. "Your other arm," Lucius sighed. "Honestly, son, what has gotten into you lately? This insolence--" He cut off as Draco lifted his other sleeve. "What have you done?" Lucius asked quietly.

"I thought it looked nice," Draco said offhandedly. And it was true. The black vines that twined up and down and around his arm were well done. They didn’t move, like Wizarding tattoos, but Draco was okay with that. Sooner or later, the Dark Mark would move, and that was more than enough for him.

"This is an affront, Draco. The Dark Lord will not be pleased with this.”

Draco merely shrugged.

“He has killed for less, you know.”

“I suppose he has.”

Lucius wiped his hand across his face. “Son, I must ask. Has someone bewitched you?”

“What? No!”

“No dizzy feelings? Periods of time you cannot recall? Headaches? Nausea? Confusion?”

“No.”

“Has anyone given you a drink that doesn’t taste as it should?”

“Father, I’m not cursed, poisoned, confounded, bewitched, or drugged. You taught me the signs well enough. Well, the tutors did.”

“Did you fall and hit your head? Perhaps a concussion…”

Draco found it mildly amusing that Lucius would assume all these things had befallen him rather than his son doing something he didn’t approve of. His father thought he was a very well-trained dog.

“No, Lucius.”

He started. “Since when have I been Lucius? You will address me as Father, and give me all due respect of the title.” Draco said nothing. Lucius made a note on a bit of parchment. “I will call upon Freidrich tomorrow. Perhaps he can fix this. He is a healer, after all.”

“No.”

Lucius looked confused. “No?”

“I’m keeping it. I like it.”

“You most certainly will not. He will kill you. Torture you first.” Draco was a bit touched. It sounded like true concern in his father’s voice. “I tried to stamp out this teenage rebellion. Looks as though I was only able to delay it. But I simply will not have this family lose its good standing because of it.”

“Good standing?” Draco said incredulously. He had not wanted to have this argument today, but he supposed it was inevitable. “Every time you see the Dark Lord you’re on your knees pleading for mercy for your last mistake. That’s not good standing, physically or metaphorically.”  
Lucius’ eyes widened. His mouth was slightly open. Draco had never spoken like this. It seemed he was at a loss for words. Draco turned to walk out, but the doors slammed closed. He turned back. His father was standing up. Rage was etched into every line in his face. For the first time since the day of his Marking, Draco was scared. He realized it was probably overdue.

“You little shite. I have given you everything. A fine house, fine clothes, fine food, a fine future. You throw it all back in my face.” He started walking slowly towards his son.

“I don’t want your future. I don’t want to be you!”

Ropes burst from Lucius’ wand. Perhaps, even after all that had been said, he didn’t expect his son to fight back. The ropes were ridiculously easy to block; Draco used a Rebuffer spell and they bounced back upon Lucius. Draco was just as surprised as his father was.

Lucius recovered first. “So this is how it ends?” he asked with a sneer. “Killed by my own son? Maybe it’s time.”

“What?” said Draco, shocked. 

“I suppose I should have seen it coming. I killed my own father, after all.”


	2. How the Great Have Fallen

“I suppose I should have seen it coming. I killed my own father, after all.”

Draco stood thunderstruck. “You—you said he was killed by Muggles!”

Lucius just smirked. “Pick your path, son. Release me or kill me.” Lucius’ words were quiet, almost sugary, as though he was trying to coax him. “Could you do it, I wonder?”

Draco looked at the floor and said nothing.

“Just know that if you let me out of here, I will kill you. So. Kill or be killed, these are your only options.”

It was too much. He couldn’t kill him, his own father. But he couldn’t release him. He believed his father’s words. He would die if he was still here when Lucius was freed. “No.”

“You have to pick one, son. We can’t just stand here forever.”

“No.”

“No _what?_ ” Lucius’ voice was losing its sickly sweet quality, becoming hard and sharp as steel. “Why don’t you _do_ something for once?”

Draco looked up. “No.” He turned and walked out of the study, walked out of the house, paying no mind to the curses being shouted ineffectually behind him.  
It was too dangerous to go to his usual coffee shop, which was a shame because it was exactly where Draco wanted to go. If his father knew about the tattoo shop, he probably knew about all the Muggle places he frequented. Draco didn’t know what to do. He wandered around London until he was well and truly lost. He found a place called Starbucks Coffee where they gave him a paper cup instead of a mug and there were too many people and no books.

\---

He took a chance the next day going into Diagon Alley. It was the only place to exchange Wizard money for Muggle and if being a Malfoy taught him anything it was that you could get nowhere without money, no matter where or what you were. He usually had a few pounds on him, just enough for coffee. He would need more. He nicked a bright blue cloak of the back of a barstool in the Leaky Cauldron and kept the hood pulled up tight despite the warmness of the day. He saw many people he knew, but the cloak hid his face and the shabbiness and the gaudy color hid him even better.

When he left Gringott’s he had almost two hundred pounds. He didn’t quite know what that meant, but it was the equivalent of quite a few galleons. He didn’t dare try to take anything out of the Malfoy vault. It was probably one of the first places his father had contacted.

He left Diagon Alley as quickly as possible and ditched the cloak back on the chair he had found it on. He found a corner with one of those bus signs. He wondered if they were anything like the Knight Bus. He stopped and raised his hand, sans wand, to see if it would come. A yellow car pulled up next to him. Feeling pleased with this easy success, he got in the car and said, “Do you know of any good coffee shops, bus driver?”

\---

This coffee shop was almost exactly the same as his last one. Not quite as many books, but the proprietor informed him that that large building across the street was a library. Draco had said he didn’t want to read textbooks. The girl laughed and said they had all kinds of books.

“Yer kinna weird, aren ya?” Amelia said.

There was only a few other people in the shop and they were all engrossed in their own books. The coffee shop girl, Amelia, had been talking to him for the last few hours. Draco supposed he couldn’t deny he was weird to her; he wasn’t a Muggle after all.

“I suppose I am,” he said, and grinned at her. “But so is your accent.”

“Oh, shut it. I talk normal, yer the one who sounds off to me. So, what d’you do for a livin’?”

“Oh, er, well, I go to school,” Draco said vaguely.

“Oh, Uni? Tha’s excitin’. I always wanted to go but I dint have enough money.”

“That must be horrible for you,” Draco said earnestly.

“Not goin’a Uni?” Amelia asked.

“Not having money,” Draco clarified.

She laughed. “Suppose it is, at that. So yer family’s rich, huh?”

“Yes,” Draco said. “Though I suppose it won’t help me anymore.”

“Why no’?”

Draco shrugged. “Sort of got kicked out yesterday.”

“Oh no, why?”

“My tattoo.”

“They kicked you out over a tattoo?” Amelia said. “Tha’s ridiculous!”

“Yeah, it is,” Draco agreed.

“Are you stayin’ with friends?” she asked. Draco was surprised how concerned she seemed for him. After all, they had only just met.

“No.”

“Oh. Other family?”

“No.”

“… Do you have anywhere ta stay?”

“No.”

“Oh.” She bit her lip. “I’m not really supposed to do this, but the coffee shop has a flat above it. My da was tryin’a rent it, but it’s kinna shite and no one ever wants it. You could stay there a bit.”

“You’d do that?” Draco asked. “But you just met me.”

“I trust ya. Plus I don’t like to see such a cute bloke so down on his luck.” She smiled. “Just one condition.”

“Of course,” Draco said. It hadn’t occurred to him that there might not be any conditions. Everything was conditional.

“You gotta work down here sometimes. It’s not hard. Mostly you just drink coffee ‘n talk to the people. That way, if my da does find out you’re livin’ here, at least I can say yer workin’ for your board.”

“No problem,” Draco said.

\---

Draco spent the next two months living in and fixing up the upstairs flat. He didn’t have much money to do it with, and a lot of it went to cans of Raid, but paint wasn’t expensive. And in addition to letting him live there, Amelia also gave him a modest paycheck. It wasn’t the Manor, but he hadn’t seen the Dark Lord in those months. He thought that, overall, he was doing very well for himself.

“Aw, Drake, it looks so nice up here!” Amelia said. It had been a while since she visited the upstairs apartment. Draco had painted the living room a cream color with dark orange accents. A blanket covered the ripped couch and the hardwood floor was shined. A few paintings he had gotten from a local thrift store hung on the walls.

“Come see the rest!” Draco said excitedly. There wasn’t much could be done for the kitchen, as he definitely didn’t have the money for new appliances, but the very light green paint and the special grey lacquer he put on the counters made it look airy and clean. A new kitchen rug covered most of the broken tiles.

The loo was still fairly bad looking. “Bathrooms are expensive,” Draco said defensively when Amelia came out.

The bedroom was Draco’s favorite, though. He felt he had put the most work in on it. The walls were a light blue, with a few dark blue vertical stripes in each corner. All over the walls were posters for bands, movies, and events that Draco had clearly taken off billboards and street lamps. The bed was just a futon cushion on the floor, but he had ripped the carpet out to reveal some amazing hard wood and he had a clean white-and-blue striped comforter.

“Seriously, Drake, my da will be so pleased. He migh’ even give ya some money outta this,” Amelia said.

“I thought you weren’t going to tell him I lived here,” Draco said.

“Well, I hafta now, don’ I? He’ll be wonderin’ how the place got so nice. Oh, but he woan’ care about ya, not now ya done all this work on the place.”  
They made some coffee downstairs and brought it up to Draco’s kitchen. Draco had something he wanted to say, but he didn’t quite know how to approach it. He’d never had to ask for anything before, except his father. His father was easy, though. If Draco ever wanted something, his father would tell him what he needed to do to deserve it. A new broom? After you get on the Quidditch team. Your own Potions’ set? After you get an O in all your classes.

He shook his head to clear it. Thinking about his father wouldn’t do any good right now. As if in punishment for his thoughts, his Dark Mark twinged painfully. He pushed it aside. It had been happening the last two weeks, and Draco was only surprised it had taken this long, and that it didn’t hurt more. He planned to ignore it as long as possible.

“Amelia, I was sort of wondering. I know I’m going back to Uni in a few weeks and you and your da will probably want to rent out this flat. But, er, well, I was kind of hoping I’d be able to live here again next summer.” He didn’t realize he was holding his breath.

Amelia looked apologetic. “I’ll try, Drake. I’d love ya ta live here again nex’ summer. It’s kinna up to my da, though, yanno?”

“Yeah, I get it,” Draco said dejectedly.

“I’ll try, though, I will,” Amelia promised. “Jus’ gimme your address at Uni and I’ll let ya know how it is.”

“Ah. Yeah. My address. Well. I don’t exactly know what it is going to be yet, I mean, I dunno what dorm I’ll be living in and, yeah. I’ll write you when I have it.”

\---

Draco was so nervous. Irrationally so, he told himself. It was Hogwarts. It was safe. And this was the train to Hogwarts. Much less safe, a nagging voice said. Well, there was nothing for it. He started pulling his trunk towards the train when, surprisingly, Professor McGonagall stopped him.

“Professor, how nice to see—“

“Come with me, Mr. Mmm... Draco. Please come with me.”


	3. Back in Black

Draco was so nervous. Irrationally so, he told himself. It was Hogwarts. It was safe. And this was the train to Hogwarts. Much less safe, a nagging voice said.

Well, there was nothing for it. He started pulling his trunk towards the train when, surprisingly, Professor McGonagall stopped him.

“Professor, how nice to see—“

“Come with me, Mr. Mmm... Draco. Please come with me.”

Confused at her sudden appearance and strange behavior, he followed Professor McGonagall over to an office. Inside was nothing but a desk and a fireplace. She took a pouch of floo powder out of a drawer and threw a pinch in the fireplace.

“Hogwarts, Headmaster’s office!” she shouted, and motioned for Draco to enter the flames. He did.

\---

“Ah, Draco. I have been expecting to hear from you for a while. I didn’t think it would take Professor McGonagall going to fetch you.”

Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk. His half-moon spectacles shined with the firelight as the Professor followed him through.

“Here he is, Albus. Shall I leave you to it, then?”

“Yes, thank you Minerva.”

She took her leave and for a while, Draco and the Headmaster simply sat there. Draco stared at a strange metal device on Dumbledore’s desk. He stared at Fawkes. He stared at the floor and at nothing in particular. Dumbledore stared at Draco.

“Draco. Where have you been this summer? Everyone has been looking for you.”

“Have they?” Draco asked, trying to sound disinterested. But no matter what else had changed, he still liked being the center of attention.

“Yes. It’s been in the papers. Your father is worried sick.”

Draco snorted. “I’m sure he is. It probably doesn’t look too good, letting me get away.”

“Whatever do you mean, Draco?”

Draco finally looked up at the Professor. Dumbledore always knew everything, it seemed. Did he really have to explain this to him?

“I got a few tattoos this summer, Professor,” he said slowly.

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. “Is that so. Are you pleased with the way they came out?”

Draco shrugged. “The first one was crap. I got a good cover up, though.” Draco smiled suddenly. “D’you wanna see?”

Before Dumbledore could say a word, Draco pulled up his sleeve to reveal the vine-obscured skull. It took a discerning eye to see the Mark, but Draco knew Dumbledore was looking.

The headmaster’s light blue eyes twinkled and Draco thought he looked like he was holding back laughter. The thought made Draco snort in amusement, which in turn made Dumbledore chuckle. Soon enough they were both laughing, laughing loud and long at the Dark Lord.

 

While waiting for the other students to arrive, Draco and Dumbledore took tea and talked about many things. Draco proudly outlined the renovations he made to his apartment and Dumbledore taught Draco some useful tips to help him on his Transfigurations. 

“Draco, I have some business we need to take care of. I have been reluctant to bring it up because it’s not the happiest of business, but nonetheless it must be resolved.”

“Yes, Professor?”

“Perhaps you have noticed that no one has called you by your last name?” Draco shook his head. He hadn’t noticed, but he immediately realized what it meant. He was disowned. He didn’t have rights to the family estate, any part. That included the Malfoy name.

“You could go back to your mother’s maiden name, Black,” Dumbledore suggested.

Lucius had told Draco the story of Black and Pettigrew. His father hated Black and back in his third year he had taken his anger out regularly on Narcissa.  
He smiled. “That would be lovely. Where do I sign?”

When it was nearly time for the feast, Draco stood up to take his leave. His eyes fell upon a familiar raggedy hat. He suddenly had such an urge to put it on, to see what it would say to him now, after all this time.

“Isn’t the Sorting Hat supposed to be downstairs for the feast?” Draco asked.

“What? Oh! Yes, of course. Professor McGonagall must have forgotten it when she dropped you off. Would you mind taking it down with you, please?”

“No problem, Professor.”

Draco slipped the old hat on his head as he walked down the corridor. It fit this time.

_Ah, Draco. I wasn’t expecting this, but then again I can’t say I’m surprised._

‘Why’s that?’ Draco thought. 

_I could see when you were younger that you had a… single-mindedness about you. I’m not shocked that you have such confusion now. It is common when one loses the one thing they believed in most_. 

Draco took a deep breath. ‘So. I have a question for you.”

_Would I still sort you into Slytherin, despite your newfound desire to be nothing like your father?_ The hat asked, quite correctly.

‘Well, when I was sorted the first time, I wanted to be just like him. He told me that if I wasn’t in Slytherin like he was, like the Dark Lord was, I would be a disappointment to the family.’

_If I were to sort you right now, Draco, I must say it would be a harder decision. I would consider Ravenclaw. But in the end, I believe I would still place you where you are. Perhaps you wish to be nothing like your father; perhaps you wish he wasn’t your father any longer. But he is, and he raised you. You can’t deny that._

‘But what if I asked you to put me in Ravenclaw?’ Draco thought timidly.

_You are worried, young Draco? Do you seriously think your housemates would hurt you?_

‘Do you?’ Draco asked. The hat was silent for a moment.

_You could fit in Ravenclaw, if you tried. I may be a hat, but I’m not completely out of the loop. I do live in Dumbledore’s office, after all. My purpose is to put people where they belong, and if being in Slytherin is dangerous to you, it is not where you belong. If I come across you in my line of sorties, I will put you in Ravenclaw._

‘Right,’ Draco thought before taking off the hat. He arrived at the doors to the Great Hall. McGonagall was waiting with the first years.

“Had a nice chat?” she asked.

“Professor. Is there any way I could, er, be resorted?”


	4. That's Fascinating, Lovegood

Draco arrived at the doors to the Great Hall. McGonagall was waiting with the first years.

“Had a nice chat?” she asked.

“Professor. Is there any way I could, er, be resorted?”

“Well, of course. It’s been planned.”

Draco was taken aback. “It has?”

“Dumbledore said earlier that as you had a new name you must be resorted.” She snorted. “Poppycock, if you ask me.” She looked Draco straight in the eye. “He just takes care of his students.”

“Yes, Professor.”

“So, are you going by Black, then?”

“Yes, Professor.”

“Alright then. Get in line.”

\---

Draco felt their suspicion when he walked in with a line of first years. Their confusion when he was called out as, ‘Black, Draco.” Their hostility as he was placed in Ravenclaw. The only people that clapped were the Slytherins.

\---

The first few days passed quietly for Draco Black. Ravenclaws, he found, were very open-minded people. He supposed that came with the territory. There were a few that clearly didn’t approve of his new status, but they didn’t start any trouble. The Ravenclaw common room was almost a library; the walls were all covered in shelves and many books were written by Muggle authors. Ravenclaws knew good literature when they read it. There was also a smaller section called The Anarchist’s Library, where students would leave their own books they no longer wanted, take books that were there and not be required to give them back. It was astounding. The Slytherins never gave a thing away for free.

“Hello, Black,” said Luna Lovegood. Draco was immersed in Hamlet.

“I said, hello, Black,” she repeated.

Draco started. “Oh, right, hello.” When he realized who it was, he groaned inwardly. He really didn’t want to be talking to Loony.

“Still getting used to the name?” she asked.

“Yeah. Sure.” He pointedly went back to his book.

“People are wondering what happened to you this summer. You disappear for months, come back with a new name and a new house. Seemingly a new person,” she said.

“Mmm.” He turned the page.

“I don’t think you are, though, not really. Perhaps you’ve renounced your family and their Dark ways, but you’re still an arse, aren’t you?”

Draco looked up. “Well. You’re very rude.”

Luna raised an eyebrow. “Because you’ve always been ever so nice to me.”

“Look, Loony. Er, Lovegood. I’ll admit I haven’t been nice to you. I don’t really like you. You’re weird. And I dunno, I’m probably still an arse, so you might wanna just walk away now.”

Luna cocked her head to the side. “You talk differently.”

Draco let out an exasperated breath. “What?”

“You were very refined before. You never would have said something like, “I dunno.” You would have said, “I don’t know.” You talk differently,” she repeated.

“That’s fascinating, Lovegood. Please leave me alone.”

“You can’t just hide in books all year,” she pointed out before walking away towards the female dorms.

“Just watch me,” Draco muttered.

\---

It was strange, Draco thought, having classes with different people. In Slytherin, many of his classes had been with the Gryffindors. In Ravenclaw, he only had Charms with them. It wasn’t as though Draco wanted to spend more time with Harry Potter. It was just odd to have potions with the Hufflepuffs.

And it was odd to go from being one of Snape’s favorite students to being invisible. He could tell Snape was trying to contain his anger. He knew it had more to do with switching houses than switching sides, which he thought was rather petty. But, he thought, there was nothing he could do about it.

“ _Black._ ” Snape spat out the name like it hurt him.

“Yes, Professor?”

“Stay after class.”

“Yes, Professor.”

Draco cleaned up his area and wondered what Snape wanted to talk to him about. They had been as close as students and teachers could be last year. He had even made a number of comments making Draco think that perhaps he wasn’t on the Dark Lord’s side as much as everyone thought he was. He was still nervous, though. Snape had a Dark Mark just as he did.

He walked up to Snape’s desk. Almost immediately, Snape demanded, “Let me see it.”

“Excuse me, Professor?”

Snape fixed him with a look that made him feel a fool. Draco battled with himself for a moment before deciding that he didn’t really care if his Potion’s Master saw what he did. He pulled up his sleeve.

Snape stared. “When Albus told me…” he muttered. He looked up at Draco’s face. “You’re mad.”

Draco shrugged and dropped his sleeve. “A bit, yeah.”

“ _Why,_ Draco?”

He looked Snape in the eyes. Dumbledore hadn’t asked why. Dumbledore already knew. Lucius hadn’t asked why. He thought he knew. Snape, he didn’t understand. And Draco didn’t know if he could say it without breaking into shouts or tears or both. But, he thought, he rather wanted to tell someone. He took a deep breath. “I don’t want to be him. He doesn’t deserve love, or anything.”

“So it was just a new, exciting way to say, ‘Bugger off, Dad?’” Snape asked, incredulous.

Draco blinked. He had never heard his professor talk this way. “Er, I suppose—“

“Fool,” Snape said derisively.

“Hey! It’s _my_ life! I realized that too late, I had to get this stupid Mark, but I’m not just gonna sit around and fight a war I don’t much care—“ Suddenly Snape was laughing. “Shut up laughing!”

“Oh, Draco. I was hoping you would snap out of the daze your father put you in. He is very charismatic, I’ll give him that.” Draco was nonplussed. “It doesn’t much matter to me if you renounced the Dark Lord because you sincerely disagree with him, or simply because you were sick of your father’s totalitarian control of your life. I’m glad you’re out.”

“You… you are?”

“Yes. I’m exceedingly disappointed you felt that you had to go as far as getting resorted, however.”

Draco colored. “It wasn’t really, well, I was worried. Of the Slytherins.”

“As well you should be. And I can understand not wanting to live in fear. Not wanting to put triple wards on your bed every night. Not being able to relax in your own common room. You understand that even though your father was in Slytherin, it is not worse for that?”

“Yes, Professor.”

“Alright.” Snape snorted with amusement again. “Another tattoo,” he said to himself. “Go to dinner…”

“Yes, Professor.” Draco grabbed his bag.

“Just one more thing.” Draco stopped and looked back. Snape had a horrible grimace on his face. “Did you have to choose _Black_?”

\---

Finally, it was time for Charms. Padma Patil gave him a strange look. “Really like Charms, huh?”

Draco winced. “Did I say that out loud?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Yeah, I uh, really like Charms.”

Padma smiled a little as she fell into step beside him. “I always sort of thought you were just a jerk. You know, like you hated everything. It’s weird but it’s like you’re a real person now.”

“I am very much like a real person,” Draco responded.

She laughed. She had a nice laugh. “I like Charms, too. If you want, you could probably join our study group. We meet like, once a week. We haven’t set a day for this year yet.”

“Maybe I will.” He smirked at her. Not his “I’m better than you,” smirk, but his “you think I’m pretty, don’t you,” smirk. He practiced them in mirrors.

\---

Draco didn’t know what to expect from Potter. He knew it would be something, though. Probably something horrible. Black was his godfather’s name, after all. And Draco’s father had just been directly responsible for the man’s death. But even so, Draco wasn’t sure what to expect.

What he didn’t expect was Potter coming over to him, lightly pushing Padma aside and asking in a polite, if slightly strangled tone of voice, if Draco wanted to be his Charms partner.


	5. Scarhead and Ferret-Face

Draco didn’t know what to expect from Potter. He knew it would be something, though. Probably something horrible. Black was his godfather’s name, after all. And Draco’s father had just been directly responsible for the man’s death. But even so, Draco wasn’t sure what to expect.

What he didn’t expect was Potter coming over to him, lightly pushing Padma aside and asking in a polite, if slightly strangled tone of voice, if Draco wanted to be his Charms partner.

Did he? He supposed he didn’t really. He wanted to continue to smirk at Padma until she threw herself at him. Plus, Charms partners were for all year. It was said that there were people who had switched, but no one knew any of them personally. A common joke was that Charms partners mated for life. And yet Potter was asking him.

But then Draco thought, wouldn’t his father have been pleased if he had managed to get this close to Potter last year? Easy to hex or poison when you were working together. Or to play the long game, find out little details, gain trust. Well, his father could just bugger off because he wouldn’t be getting any benefit from this.

“Yeah, alright.”

Padma looked slightly put off and went to go work with her sister.

They set down their books and opened up to the chapter that was written on the board. A piece of parchment slid across the table. It read, **_Why Black?_**

Draco wrote back. _Why what?_

**_I meant, why BLACK?_ **

_It was my mother’s maiden name._

**_I know but… wasn’t there anything else you could have chosen?_ **

_No. Why did you ask me to be partners, Potter?_

**_I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to ask you about this._ **

_You could have asked me any time. You asked to be partners. Yanno, charms partners mate for life._

It seemed Potter didn’t have a response for that other than turning a bit pink. He began taking notes on the different kinds of invisibility and cloaking charms.

Up at the front of the classroom, Professor Flitwick held in a grin. Though the circumstances were drastically different from what he or anyone else thought they would be, he knew a certain Minerva McGonagall who owed him five sickles. There in front of him, again, sat a Black and a Potter, passing notes in class, not even trying to hide it.

\---

Draco was surprised at how quietly Charms was going. Granted, they were just reading, so they hadn’t spoken to each other besides the note-passing. But even so, usually just being in such a close radius to each other provoked fighting. Draco wasn’t as happy about it as he thought he would be. Sure, he loved doing things his father would hate, but this was just too far. He couldn’t sit next to Potter for a whole period and not get a reaction out of him. He reached over and grabbed the parchment back from Potter. It was under his elbow and when Draco pulled on it Potter’s arm, and the head that had been resting on it, slammed to the desk. Draco sniggered. He had meant to scribble an insult on the parchment, but this worked just as well.

“What the bloody—Malmmfmm!”

Draco laughed louder as Potter tried to call him by his former surname and failed.

Potter glared at him. “Can’t we just put all this stuff behind us?”

“Quiet back there!” Professor Flitwick yelled in his squeaky voice. “It’s reading time!”

Draco grabbed the parchment.

_Why would I want to put it behind us? Torturing you is such fun._

Harry rolled his eyes at the statement. _**You’re mad. I know you ran away. I know you renounced your family and Voldemort. Why do you still want to mess with me?**_

Dumbledore knew everything. His father knew everything. Potter, however, was not supposed to know everything. _Because it’s fun, Potty. I hate you for you, not for anyone else._

Potter frowned. **_Then why’d you agree to be my Charms partner? We’re mated for life, as you said_**.

Draco looked at the parchment for a while. He figured he might as well tell the truth. _Because I hate my father, Potty. He would have loved me to be partners with you earlier, but I knew you wouldn’t because you hated me so much. But now you ask me to get closer to you. It’s an opportunity he would have loved, but now he can’t profit from it._

**_… that’s stupid. Will he even know that we’re partners? Are you going to tell him?_ **

_Eh, whatever. He might. He might not. Sometimes rumors are passed from child to parent._

**_You’re weird… I don’t even know what to call you anymore._ **

_Call me Black._

**_I won’t._ **

_Well, I’ve only got one more name._

**_Call you Draco? That’d be weird. Almost… wrong._ **

_Draco chuckled. I suppose you’re right. And besides, if you called me Draco, I’d have to call you Harry, and then where would we be? First-name basis._

**_Creepy._ **

_Quite._

**_Ferret-face._ **

_Scarhead._

_\---_

Annoying Potter hadn’t gone quite as well as planned. Draco assumed he was in a transitioning phase and he’d get it back next week. He was in the library when,

“Hey, Ferret-face!” disturbed his reading. He looked up to see Potter, with his two cronies lingering back, clearly uncomfortable.

“What is it, Scarhead?”

“You left your Charms notes in class earlier.” Potter held out the aforementioned notes.

Draco took them cautiously. “And you brought them to me?”

Potter shrugged. “Yeah.”

Draco shook his head. “This will not do.” Harry looked confused. Draco hit him with a bat bogey hex.


	6. Is that How it Works

Draco shook his head. “This will not do.” Harry looked confused. Draco hit him with a bat bogey hex.

  
Minerva McGonagall was not pleased. Professor Flitwick was about to collect on another bet, so he couldn’t be too upset.

“Fighting! In the library!” McGonagall shouted.

“Don’t do that,” Flitwick chimed in.

“Mister Black! I would have thought you knew better this year. And Mister Potter! You shouldn’t escalate the situation, you should put a stop to it,” she continued.

“Shame,” Flitwick said with a bit of a smile.

McGonagall shook her head disapprovingly. “Do you even know how many books were damaged?”

Draco said in a small voice, “So cast a _Repairo_?” 

Flitwick snorted loudly.

McGonagall’s glare split between all three males in the room. 

“Detention, of course. And fifty points from Gryffindor.”

“Fifty?! But it’s just the start of the year and—“

“Exactly, Mister Potter. This is not the way for you to start off your year.”

Harry fell quiet. Everyone turned to look at Professor Flitwick to see what Draco’s punishment would be.

“Oh, I don’t know, Minerva. Boys will be boys after all,” he said with a grin. At her murderous expression, he amended, “But perhaps sometimes a detention does them good.”

\---

Scrubbing out the trophy room with Potter was horrible. First off, Potter wouldn’t talk to him. No matter what insult he hurled at the black-haired fool, he couldn’t get a rise. He’d given up trying. They had been trying to stay away from each other all night, but they were almost done cleaning and were now only a few feet from each other.

“What’s that, Ferret-face?” Potter asked, pointing at Draco’s tattoo. He had rolled his sleeves up a few hours ago so they wouldn’t get dirty.

“A tattoo, Scarhead. I mean, honestly—“

“Covers your Dark Mark pretty well.”

Draco fell silent. 

“If you didn’t want it, why did you get it?”

“I did want it,” he said simply. He watched the emotions run across Potter’s face. Honesty was working better than insults. That was interesting.

“Well then… why did you cover it up?” he asked.

“I didn’t want it anymore.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Why not?” Draco gave him a look. “I mean, you changed your mind pretty quick.”

“That’s a pretty personal question, Scarhead. I didn’t know you cared,” he said sarcastically.

Harry just shrugged. “I’m curious.”

Draco put down his rag. He sat down and leaned against the wall. “I did want it. I went there, on my birthday, like my father had planned. I was always going to get it, but he moved it up after that whole Ministry fiasco.” Potter, too, dropped his rag and sat down. He was biting his lip and obviously thinking about his Godfather. “I was there. The Dark Lord was there. My father was kneeling on the ground, his forehead in the dirt. Begging for forgiveness for the failure of his plan. Offering me as consolation.”

“That’s low,” Harry said quietly.

“Oh, I didn’t mind that. What bothered me was the way he was acting. I had seen it before but suddenly I realized… Lucius loves the Dark Lord. Unconditionally. And that’s just foolish. I never want to be such a fool.”

“It is. Really foolish. I mean, it’s Voldemort.”

“What? Oh, yeah. I mean really, it’s foolish to love anyone unconditionally. The Dark Lord especially, I suppose…”

Harry gave him a look. “Loving someone is foolish?” He shook his head. “You’re fucked up, Ferret-face.”

“Loving someone unconditionally,” Draco corrected. He couldn’t quite believe he was having this conversation with Potter.

Harry snorted. “That’s the only way to love someone. I mean, you’re not going to love someone _conditionally._ ”

“Of course you are.”

“That’s not love, Ferret. That’s just… using someone.”

“No,” he protested. “You can love someone. But if they do wrong, you shouldn’t just keep loving them. It just encourages them to do more wrong things to you.”

Harry just shrugged. “Maybe if the person you love is a sociopath. Hopefully, the person loves you back and feels bad enough about hurting you that they won’t do it again.”

Draco shook his head. “You are so naïve.”

“Better than being cynical,” Potter retorted.

“Oh, is it,” he said sarcastically.

“I think so, yeah.”

\---

Later that night, Draco couldn’t get Potter’s words out of his head. He had always thought that unconditional love was stupid. And it still was. But the more he thought about it, the more he thought it might be a nice kind of stupid. At least for a little while.

\---

It was scary, really, how Draco was becoming obsessed with Harry Potter. He always had been, but now it was different. Harry had stopped responding to Draco’s mocking and insults and when Draco would cast a hex at him he would just block it and carry on. It was infuriating, really. The only way to make the boy show any kind of emotion was to _talk_ to him. It had been this way almost a month.  
Incorrigible.

“So, Scarface. Ready for a battle of epic proportions, with curses that barely miss and some witty banter sprinkled in for good measure?”

“The Charms exam? I’m gonna kick your arse, Ferret.”

“Not bloody likely. You couldn’t master a charm if it walked up to you with a pair of handcuffs and asked you very nicely if you could please take mastership of it.”

“Yeah, well, you couldn’t pass an exam if it was handed to you with the answers already written on it!”

“Settle down, class. The questions are on the board. No more talking,” Flitwick admonished.

This is what Draco had been reduced to. Repartee. Having a laugh. Teasing, with _no hard feelings_. It was ghastly. But it was all he could do.

\---

“I told you, Scar-potty-face-head.”

“You beat me by only four points!”

“What?”

“I said you beat me by—“

“‘You beat me,’ says the loser,” Draco said, and smirked. Padma Patil gave him a strange look. Almost angry. Draco checked himself and found that his “I’m better than you,” smirk was looking sort of like his “you think I’m pretty, don’t you,” one. The color, what little of it there was, drained from his face.

“I gotta go,” Draco mumbled, and walked away quickly in the direction of the Ravenclaw dormitory.

\---

Padma caught up to him. “So, Draco. Are we going out or what?”

Draco coughed loudly. “Erm, should we be?”

“I think so,” she said.

“Well, I mean—“

“We’ve been making out for like, two weeks. Now it’s time to be boyfriend and girlfriend.”

“Is that how that works?” Draco muttered distractedly.

“Yes,” Padma replied easily.

Draco thought about it. It couldn’t hurt anything. Hopefully kissing Padma on a boyfriend/girlfriend level would take his mind off why he had smirked at Scarface like that. As he pulled Padma in for a kiss, the Dark Mark on his arm began prickling painfully.


	7. Not Cute At All

After a week the burning in his Mark had reached an all new level of pain. Draco honestly thought he would not be able to go on; or at least go on without people noticing how drawn and tight his face was, how he could barely move his left arm. He went to the only person he knew could help him. 

“Professor—I need to talk to you,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Can’t you see I’m in class?” Professor Snape barked without looking up from a first year Gryffindor’s potion.

“Yes, I can. So clearly this must be rather important.”

Snape finally looked up, and when he saw the look on Draco’s face and the way he was clutching his arm his entire demeanor changed. “Class is over. Get out.”

The Gryffindors and Slytherins looked unsure. “Now!” Snape cast a powerful _Scourgify_ over all the cauldrons and the children jumped and scampered out of the classroom, bumping into Draco’s legs and hips as they went.

“Wait in my office, Draco.”

Draco went through the door in the back of the classroom, oddly proud that Snape trusted him alone in his private office. He wasn’t by himself for long; Snape came back in holding a large vial of something.

“Put this salve on it,” he said.

“What is it?” Draco asked, but he wasted no time unscrewing the bottle and smearing a healthy portion of potion on his arm.

“A remedy I made myself. I know how it can be sometimes.”

Instantly his arm felt better. It still itched, but Draco could deal with that.

“Keep that. I have more. I can make more.” Snape fixed him with a serious expression. “Don’t wait that long next time.”

“I didn’t…” Draco trailed off as the Potions Master raised an eyebrow. Snape had known exactly how much pain he was in. “Yes, Professor.”

Snape softened slightly. “See how easy that was? You can ask for help when you need it.” At Draco’s quiet scoff, Snape continued. “I hate it, too. But the burning will only get worse. If you ignore it long enough, the skin will become scorched and inflamed. I’ve seen people, tried to help people, who had avoided the Dark Lord until their arms were blackened, charred from the inside out. There is not much I can do for them at that point. Do not wait. And when you absolutely need help, for anything, I will be here, Draco.”

And then, Draco felt an ache in his chest as though the wind had been knocked out of him, but he could still breathe. It was not a feeling he had ever had before. “Even though I’m not in Slytherin?”

Snape sighed. “Child. Do not think your father’s way of showing affection is the only one. Not everyone is so… conditional.”

Draco wanted very much to hug the older man, but he knew that would be too much. He shook off the childish feeling and simply said, “Thank you.” His voice was low and raspy and he liked to think Snape knew that it wasn’t just two short words.

\---

“Padma?”

“Yes, Draco?”

“I dunno.” Draco went back to looking for a new book to read. He was thinking something 19th century. 

Padma smiled and put down The Harmony of Alchemists. She went up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “What is it, pretty?”

“Why d’you call me pretty?” he asked. It wasn’t what he meant to say, but he had lost his nerve.

“Because you are,” Padma answered. She kissed the back of his neck lightly.

“What if I wasn’t?”

“Well,” Padma said between kisses, “you are.”

He turned around. “But what if I wasn’t?” he pressed.

“Oh, I don’t know, Draco,” she said, exasperated.

“Would you still want to be with me?”

“I suppose I would.”

“You suppose?”

“Well how am I to know? If you weren’t pretty we probably wouldn’t be together at all,” she snapped. It was clear she wanted to get back to the kissing and do less of the talking. But Draco wanted to talk, even if he wasn’t quite sure what about.

“Really,” he said. “Well, that’s just sweet.”

Padma shrugged. “It’s the truth. I don’t see why it matters. We’re together, aren’t we?”

“Yeah… I gotta go.” Draco turned from Padma and the books and started to walk out of the common room.

“Go?” Padma asked. “Go where?”

“I dunno. Anywhere.”

He slammed the door when he left.

His feet found their way to the owlery. He thought about Amelia and his promise to write her. How could he? There was no Muggle mail at Hogwarts. Not even Hogsmeade. He couldn’t just send an owl to her house. Or could he? Draco thought for a moment what his father would say about sending an owl to a Muggle and decided that, blast it, he was going to. Amelia was pretty easy going. At least, she liked birds. He found that he left his parchment and things in his bag in the common room. He didn’t want to go back in there and deal with Padma.

He stood for a while, looking out the window at the grounds. Winter felt like it was just about to start. At this height there was a tiny bit of frost around the stone. He heard the door open and someone walk in. He thought, it’s Potter, of course. Why he thought it would be, he didn’t know, but he was sure of it.

“Hey, Ferret. You look cold.”

It was Granger. Draco responded without turning around. “You don’t call me Ferret.”

“What am I supposed to call you, then?”

Draco shrugged. “I don’t care. You can call me nothing at all. But only Scarhead calls me Ferret.”

An owl ruffled its feathers and flew out the window. He hoped that with her business concluded the bushy haired girl would leave. She did not. She came over to the window and leaned against the sill as Draco was doing.

“Aw, you have nicknames for each other. That’s so cute.”

“It is _not_. We hate each other and we call each other insulting, painful names that bring back horrible memories. It is not cute at all,” he protested.

“But Harry’s _allowed_ to do it, and I’m not?”

“Exactly.”

“Exactly,” she repeated, and gave him a look. “And that’s why it’s cute.”

He turned to face her. They were very close together suddenly.

“I’m not into blokes,” he said quietly.

“I never said you were,” Hermione murmured.

“I don’t like Scarhead,” he muttered.

“That one might be a lie.”

“I’ll prove it.”

“How?”

He kissed her.


	8. Well Alright Then

“I’m not into blokes,” he said quietly.

“I never said you were,” Hermione murmured.

“I don’t like Scarhead,” he muttered.

“That one might be a lie.”

“I’ll prove it.”

“How?”

He kissed her.

She pushed him. It took a moment.

“You—you—“

“I kissed you,” Draco said helpfully.

“Why?”

Draco shrugged.

“But… you hate me!”

Draco shrugged.

“I’m a Muggleborn! You think I’m low and dirty!”

Draco shrugged.

“You make fun of my teeth and my hair and you call me ugly!”

Draco rolled his eyes. “You have an awful lot of reasons why we shouldn’t kiss each other. All of them are things that are wrong with _you_. Have some self-esteem issues?”

Hermione spluttered.

“If it makes you feel better, I didn’t really want to kiss you,” Draco said, and pulled a piece of lint from his robe. “I just wanted to prove to you that I don’t want to kiss Scarhead.”

“Yes, because that’s insurmountable proof, kissing me,” Hermione said angrily. “And besides. I never said you wanted to kiss Harry. I was just teasing you. You’re the one who got defensive about anyone but Harry calling you Ferret, and you’re the one that brought up liking blokes, and you’re the one that keeps saying you don’t want to kiss Harry. If anything, you’re the one with issues.”

And with that, Hermione Granger stormed out of the owlery.

\---

Draco scowled all the way back to the common room. Just let Padma try and mess with him now. He yelled at a few first years that they were out past curfew. When they timidly pointed out that curfew wasn’t for half an hour he yelled at them that they were small and had squeaky voices. He felt a little better.

Padma did indeed try to mess with him. “Just don’t, Padma. I can’t handle you tonight.”

“Can’t handle me?” she yelled. “You’re my boyfriend; it’s your job to handle me!”

“I’ve never been anyone’s boyfriend before. Can you tell me, are boyfriends supposed to go around kissing people that aren’t their girlfriend?”

Padma looked so angry Draco wouldn’t be surprised if fire came out of her nose.

“No,” she said dangerously.

“Well then. I guess I’m not doing my job correctly. I quit.” He walked up the stairs, laughing to himself at Padma’s cry of; “You can’t quit, you’re fired!”

\---

Draco walked into the library feeling better than he had in a while. Padma was history, and Potter was sure to be angry about kissing his friend. He couldn’t wait to be searched out and yelled at. Perhaps a proper brawl would come out of it. It had been far too long. He opened up a book he had taken from the Anarchist’s Library and began to read with a smile on his face.

Only, nothing came about. Potter was scarce. Which wasn’t surprising in itself, they only had the one class together. But he wasn’t searching for Draco. He wasn’t making any kind of effort. When they passed in the halls, Harry didn’t say a word. It was infuriating. Draco didn’t want to wait until Charms class to have a confrontation with the boy, but also this time he didn’t want to start the fight. It was Harry’s turn. Maybe Potter didn’t want to cause a scene in front of his friends. Draco formulated a plan.

\---

It wasn’t stalking, not really. It was just… following at a distance. Draco discontinued that line of thinking rather quickly. It took two nights, but finally Harry shook off his friends and commenced walking, Draco overheard, to the Owlery. Draco did a little jig. What a lovely coincidence. There, at the scene of the crime, Potter wouldn’t be able to contain his furious anger.

Draco walked up the stairs and opened the door. Inside, Harry was standing next to the rows of perches, stroking his white owl and making soft noises to it.

“Talking to animals, Scarface?” Draco sneered.

“Yes. I know she understands me.” Harry smiled without looking up. “Maybe not the words, exactly, but she understands the sentiment behind it.”

“Whatever, weirdo. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, that scar must’ve done horrible things to your brain.” He sauntered over to the window and took a kind of joy in standing in the same position he had the other night with Granger.

“Okay, Ferret.” Harry just kept smiling down at his owl and stroking her. Then he fed her a little treat from his pocket. The silence seemed to get very awkward to Draco, but Potter didn’t seem to notice. The prat.

“You know, I expected after I kissed Granger that the Golden Trio would have descended upon me with all the fury of a spurned hippogriff. Is this your way of giving us your blessing?” Draco asked innocently.

Potter stopped cooing. He still didn’t look up at Draco, but he could tell it was in a pointed manner now, instead of simple indifference.

“You did what to Hermione,” he said in a monotone.

Draco raised an eyebrow. “I kissed her. What, she didn’t tell you?”

He looked up finally. Draco was pleased to see there was emotion in those eyes. He couldn’t quite tell if it was anger or maybe sadness, or both. The fact that one of his best friends kept this secret must have been distressing to him.

“I don’t believe you,” he breathed. Draco almost couldn’t hear him.

“I don’t lie anymore, Scarhead. I kissed her. Right in this window, four days ago.” Draco couldn’t help but smirk a bit as a look of anguish flashed across Harry’s features.

“Why?”

Draco shrugged. “I felt like it.”

“Why?”

Draco turned all the way around to face Potter and leaned against the wall. It seemed the shock of his friend’s betrayal and kissing the enemy and whatnot had left Potter somewhat incapable of conversation. This was going mighty well.

“You already asked that, Scarhead,” Draco pointed out.

“No,” he said. “I mean, why did you feel like it?” Draco pondered this. “It’s not as though she likes you. She bloody hates you.”

“I’m aware.”

“She thinks your pompous arse exterior is covering up a scared little kid,” he elaborated.

“What? That’s ridiculous. I am definitely not a scared little kid. Where she got that from I’ve no clue—“

“Why would kiss someone who doesn’t want to kiss you?”

“It took her a while to pull away. I’d say she wants to kiss me more than you realize,” Draco spat. This was taking too long. The brawling was supposed to have started already. “Clearly she has something to hide. She didn’t tell you and the red-headed company you keep about this.”

“Yes, she was probably protecting you. Ron would’ve killed you if he knew you kissed his girlfriend.”

“She’s his girlfriend?” Draco grinned. “Excellent. That’s even better than I hoped for.”

Harry shook his head. “You really are a jerk, Ferret.”

“I know. What are you going to do about it?”

“Do about it?” Potter gave him a strange look. “Nothing.”

“Nothing? Nothing?” Draco yelled. “And why the bloody hell is that?”

He blinked confusedly. “What should I do about it?” he asked.

“I dunno! Something! Fight me, yell at me, curse me, something, Potter!”

And then Potter did something horrible. He began to laugh.

“Your mum was a dirty jezebel! Your father was a coward! Mudbloods are scum! You’re going to die at the hands of the Dark Lord! Your friends are poor and ugly!” Draco yelled any insulting thing that came to mind. He couldn’t stand Potter laughing at him when he was trying so hard to make him angry.

“You miss fighting me, don’t you, Ferret?” Harry asked when he regained a bit of composure.

“We fight. It’s not a choice, Scarface. It’s just who we are. I’m ice, you’re fire. I’m bad, you’re good. I’m yang, you’re yin. We clash, we fight. It’s in our nature. It’s not that I miss it, it’s just I accept the truth.”

“It doesn’t have to be true,” Harry said slowly.

Draco stared at him. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, it really does.”

“But you’re not on Voldemort’s side anymore. We have no reason to be enemies.” Harry walked over to where Draco was standing and leaned against the window frame. “In fact,” he said quietly, “I think I’d rather if we weren’t.”

Draco stared, open-mouthed. This was ridiculous. “I don’t give a damn what you’d rather, wanker.”

Harry glared over at him. “No?”

Draco glared back. “No.”

“So I suppose that means I shouldn’t give a damn what you’d rather, either,” Harry said, turning to face Draco with a dangerous expression on his face.

Draco turned to face him, eye to eye. The air bristled with emotions. Punches would soon be thrown, he was sure. “Exactly.”

“Alright then!”

“Alright!”

“Well, alright!” Potter stormed out of the Owlery. Draco cursed.

“Don’t you just walk out on me, Scarhead!” he yelled. He followed Harry down the stairs but when he reached the bottom the other boy was nowhere in sight.


	9. Backwards

Padma had successfully turned the girls in Ravenclaw against him. They didn’t actually do anything to him, but they glared at him a lot and whispered. It was quite distracting while Draco was trying to read in the Common Room.

There was one, however, who didn’t follow the rest. Draco groaned when he saw her approaching.

“Hello, Black.”

“Hello, Loony.”

Luna frowned. “I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t call me that.”

“Tough.”

She cocked her head to one side. “Why are you so mean?”

Draco sighed and put down his book. “Why do you continue to talk to me when I’m always mean to you?”

“I hope that one day you won’t be mean and I can find out how Harry can like you,” she said, unabashed.

Draco shook his head in confusion. “Firstly, I won’t just _stop being mean._ That’s ridiculous; I have no idea why you’d think that. Secondly, Scarface doesn’t like me. He hates me. We’ve always hated each other. A lot.”

It was Luna’s turn to be confused. “He definitely doesn’t hate you, Black. He’s always defending you against people who think you’re still on You-Know-Who’s side. He says you belong in Ravenclaw, that it’s not just a trick. He’s always standing up for you and saying you’re not as bad as people think.” 

“No!” Draco exclaimed. “You’re lying.”

Luna gave him a strange look. “I’m not.”

“This is mad,” Draco muttered. To Luna he said, “Potter and I are not friends. We have never been and we never will be. I do not like him in any way, shape or form. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some things to take care of.” He got up and walked briskly up to his dormitory.

\---

Draco formulated a new plan. Clearly, the psychological approach wasn’t working. How Potter was getting these crazy ideas in his head, he didn’t know. Defending him? As though Draco needed or wanted Harry bloody Potter to be saying mildly nice things about him behind his back. The nerve! He needed something much more direct.

He hid in an alcove in the Charms hallway. The alcove, Draco knew, contained a tapestry behind which was a hallway which led to certain places he assumed Rowena Ravenclaw enjoyed to visit. One door was quite close to the Common Room, another let out near the library, a third to a small courtyard, and another near the Astronomy Tower. Draco wouldn’t need to visit any of these places today; the hallway was enough. He cast a silencing spell on the tapestry and waited for Potter to walk by.

Soon enough, he did. Draco grabbed him and pulled him inside. The element of surprise gave him enough time to disarm him and to cast a spell on the tapestry that made it as hard as stone. He hoped Granger didn’t know the counter spell to it. It wasn’t well known, but then Granger did read dictionaries for fun.

“What the bloody hell d’you think you’re doing, Ferret?” Harry was, to put it mildly, a bit perturbed.

Draco didn’t say anything. He just pocketed both his and Potter’s wands, smiled, and punched Harry in the face.

For a moment, Harry was too shocked to do anything or fight back. Draco waited. Harry let out a frustrated cry. 

“Why are you trying so hard to fight me?” he yelled.

“Why are you trying so hard _not_ to fight me?” Draco yelled back.

“Maybe I just don’t want to fight _anyone_ ,” Harry said.

“That doesn’t matter,” Draco said offhandedly. “I’m special.”

Harry barked out a laugh. “Oh, really?”

“Very,” he stated. “But enough of this. We will get nowhere with words.” He raised his fists and waited for a moment to see what Harry would do. He raised his hands halfheartedly, as though out of instinct but with no real desire to fight or protect himself. Draco made an exasperated sound.

“You’re pathetic, Scarface! You won’t fight me, you don’t get upset, you defend me to your stupid friends. This is insane.”

“I just don’t want to hurt you, Ferret.”

“If you don’t hit me right now, I’ll… I’ll…” He tried to think of something Potter would actually care about. It was all backwards, he didn’t even know what to say. And then it hit him. Harry Potter was trying to be his friend, Dumbledore was nice to him, he was in Ravenclaw instead of Slytherin… it was all backwards. If he wanted things to be the same as they were, he had to _act_ backwards. 

It was a stupid thing to think, Draco knew, but nothing else had worked. “I’ll never speak to you again!” he declared.

Harry started. “What, really?”

“Really.”

“Never?”

“Never.”

“…I don’t believe you,” Harry said slowly.

“I don’t lie anymore, Scarhead,” Draco said. He lowered his fists. “I’ll never speak to you again. It’ll be quite difficult in Charms but…” He shrugged. When Potter didn’t make a move, Draco turned and began to walk indifferently for the tapestry.

“I don’t believe you,” Harry said again.

Draco stopped walking and looked back. Harry was biting his lip and looking very worried indeed. “Are you willing to risk it?”

After a moment, Harry took a few very determined strides towards Draco. When he reached him, he didn’t hesitate. He hit him in the stomach. Draco grinned wickedly.

He pushed him off and tried to hit his face, but Potter ducked and got him in the stomach again. It wasn’t as hard, and Draco managed to get an uppercut in as he straightened from the blow. Harry reeled backwards and Draco advanced quickly. The retreat had been a feint, though, and suddenly Harry rushed forward and caught Draco’s chest with his shoulder. He rammed the other boy into the wall and while Draco was breathless, he punched him full in the face. Draco spat blood on Harry’s shirt. Harry hit him again. Draco’s punching arm was crushed against the wall by Harry’s body, so he reached up with his other hand and pulled Potter’s hair. He got a headbut in return.

They fought for a good ten minutes. Draco managed to push Potter off him and had the dominant position for a while, but he found himself back up against the wall again. Honestly, he was getting the piss kicked out of him.

He tried to blink the blood from his eye. This time, both of his arms were held against the stone by Harry’s elbows. They both stood, catching their breath for a moment.

“Sure like to have me up against the wall, Scarhead,” Draco said between breaths.

“I’d chain you up to them if I could,” he said.

“Ooh, Kinky. I had no idea, Potter. If I had known you’d get off on this—“

“Oh, whatever. You were the one begging for a chance to put your hands on me.”

“In your dreams.”

“God, Ferret. Do you ever stop talking?” Harry shook his head. Blood and sweat from his hair hit Draco in the face. “You try to goad me, make me beat you up, and you still won’t shut up taunting me.”

“I’ll never stop taunting you, Scarhead.”

Harry gave a strange little smile when Draco said that. He could feel Harry’s grip loosening, but he was so tired and sore he pretended not to notice. He also pretended not to notice how their bodies pressed up on each other from chest to knee.

“You said you would.”

“I what, now?” Draco asked distractedly.

“You said you were going to stop talking to me,” Harry said, looking into Draco’s face for the first time. Draco could see a split lip and the beginnings of a pretty nasty black eye.

“Oh, right. Yeah, you fell for that pretty quick.” Draco laughed. It hurt. “Like I could resist torturing you.”

Harry sighed heavily and his head dropped down to rest on Draco’s shoulder. Suddenly, Draco was very uncomfortable. There was a tightening in his nether regions that told him it was about to get even more uncomfortable. He was about to push the boy off him when Harry looked up at him.  
Harry opened his mouth and Draco closed his eyes as if that could protect him from the imminent mortification that was Harry Potter realizing Draco’s cock was hard against his thigh.

He felt warm breath across his face. Then he felt lips, ever so lightly brushing against his.

Potter was kissing him.

Potter was _kissing him_.

The arms that moments ago held him down now held him close. He could taste the blood from Harry’s lip and feel a throbbing in his shoulder that might mean it was dislocated. Draco didn’t really mind. He had been trying for so long to get Potter’s attention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of Part 1


	10. Predilections

Draco Malfoy was sitting comfortably in a blue plush armchair in the Ravenclaw common room. He was reading a book, The Hobbit, and enjoying the warmth radiating from the fireplace. Loony Lovegood had tried to engage him in conversation earlier, but he had forestalled that. Nothing was going to ruin his mood tonight.

It had begun as an ordinary Saturday. Draco got up. Showered. Put on his long johns because it was December and mighty cold outside. He put some gel in his hair in preparation for a day of Hogsmeade visiting.

He never got there.

Harry, in his infinite wisdom, had waylaid him on his way while wearing his invisibility cloak. He drug Draco to the other side of the lake where there was a lightly wooded area on the edge of the Forest. Despite the clearing, it seemed very private.

Harry had packed a lunch, the sod, complete with Honeydukes chocolate and warm tea. They snogged for hours, it seemed.

And now he was spending the rest of the evening in his favorite chair with a book and a fire, feeling very relaxed indeed. 

Long, manicured nails pushed his book down into his lap. Draco felt a sinking feeling. That was what his old girlfriend used to do when she wanted attention. He looked up and, sure enough, Padma Patil was grinning down at him. He wondered what horrible thing transpired. Padma hadn’t done anything but glare at him since he broke up with her over a month ago.

“Hello, Draco,” she said excitedly.

“Hullo,” said Draco, wary.

“I just wanted to let you know that I don’t, like, have any hard feelings or anything. You know, about us,” she declared loudly.

Draco looked around. His housemates looked like they were all studying hard for the NEWTS, but he knew every head was cocked, ears all angled, hoping to find out what was going on. Ravenclaw curiosity at its finest.

“Well,” Draco said. “Alright. Good.”

Her hand didn’t leave his book. He hadn’t expected her to be that easy, but he had hoped.

“I mean, how could I be angry at you, considering...” she said.

He knew he shouldn’t. He knew he was walking right into her verbal trap. He had to. “Considering what, Padma?”

“Considering, well, your predilections. I couldn’t possibly be upset if you leave me for a man. And Harry Potter, of all people—“

Draco stood up suddenly, book falling to the ground. Padma took an uncertain step back. “What did you say?”

“I just meant I’m happy for you, Draco,” she said hesitantly. “Was it supposed to be a secret?”

“It’s not supposed to be – it’s not an anything!”

Padma gave him one of her You’re Stupid But You’re Pretty smiles. She practiced them in mirrors. “But a lot of people know, Draco. We saw you two on the other side of the lake, picnicking and… whatnot.”

This was horrible. Draco was not ready for this. He wasn’t ready for people to know he was… well, anyway. He needed to talk to Harry.

\---

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Scarhead—open this door right now!” Draco waited patiently for six entire seconds. BANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANG—

“Merlin, Ferret!” A sleepy Harry swung open the portrait and narrowly avoided getting struck in the face. “What are you doing here?”

“We’ve been caught out,” Draco said.

“Oh,” said Harry. They stood in a slightly awkward silence. “D’you, well, d’you wanna talk about it?”

“I just—“ Draco cut off. Now that the initial panic was wearing off, Draco felt a little foolish at the brash way he ran to the Gryffindor. “I just wanted to know what you thought about it,” he finished.

“I don’t really mind,” Harry said with a shrug. “So the school knows we like each other. What’s the worst that can happen? We’ve had to deal with worse than this plenty of times.”

Draco supposed that was true. And he couldn’t keep a small grin from spreading across his face when he thought of Lucius’ reaction.

“Plus, it will royally piss of Lucius,” Harry added with a knowing smile.

Draco looked down at his shoes, then up at Harry and smiled. “Alright, Scarhead. What’s the worst that could happen?”

\---

_Drake,_

_What the bloody hell you doin sendin a bloody owl into my shop in the middle of the day?? A customer ran out screamin today. Guess she don’t like birds. When you come back, I’m gonna get the truth about this weirdo school you go to. I mean, I heard of carrier pigeons but never owls! This is insane. I see now why you couldn’t get me a proper address before you left. What kinda name is Hogwarts, anyways?_

_No one’s moved into the flat yet. Actually, I haven’t even shown me da all the work you done. He still thinks it’s all horrible-looking in there so he leaves it alone. Hopefully he don’t look until it’s real close to when you come back, I’ll prolly be able to tell him to hold off and wait for you._

_And he’s real open minded, too, so if you wanna bring this Harry bloke back with you, that’d be alright…_

  
Draco smiled as he read Amelia’s letter. He was ecstatic to learn no one was living in his flat. He had hoped she would do everything in her power to keep it empty but the confirmation felt very good indeed. Her suggestion about bringing Harry with him, however, was worrisome. He hadn't been thinking that far in the future and he doubted Harry was, either. Draco knew the other boy didn’t have to go to his relatives after he graduated Hogwarts, but what he was planning to do Draco had no idea. There was plenty of time for that, though. It was only December.


	11. Beautiful

Christmas, to put it in a word, was boring. Bloody boring. The stupid git Potter left him to spend the hols with a bunch of freckled redheads and Draco was left in the castle all alone.

It really seemed as though everyone had gone away this year. Luna Lovegood had remained, and a few younger students from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. The rest of the Ravenclaws and all of the Slytherins were absent.

Admittedly, sometimes it was rather peaceful. Having the library to himself to study for the NEWTS was a blessing, and walking the empty castle was a new and interesting experience. Draco made the acquaintance of quite a few portraits he had never met before.

But even so, it was incredibly, astoundingly boring. He found himself thinking about that stupid git Potter more than was probably healthy. He even found himself being upset that he’d left. As though Potter owed him something. As though Potter should be considering Draco’s feelings about being left alone on Christmas. He was being childish. In an effort to get these inane thoughts out of his mind, he searched out Luna Lovegood. He found her in the common room.

“Hello, Loonyy-a,” he said, stumbling over her name.

“Hello, Black,” she said amiably. “How are your holidays progressing?”

“Oh, alright,” he said, sinking into his favorite chair. “They’re a bit… really bloody boring,” he admitted.

“I thought you might find them to be. You’ve been spending a lot of time with Harry recently and he’s left you to be with the Weasleys.”

“Yes, well.” Draco was annoyed. He quickly remembered why he never spoke to the girl.

“Oh, don’t be upset with him. What with all that’s going on, he just wants to spend time with his loved ones. That’s why everyone is home.” Luna flicked the page of her magazine. “They’re all worried that next time they go home, someone might not be there.”

Draco unconsciously scratched his tattoo.

“Is that your Dark Mark?” Luna asked, discarding her magazine. She leaned interestedly towards Draco’s arm.

“Who says I’ve got a Dark Mark?”

Luna blinked her large, owlish eyes at him. Draco was struck by the thought that the pale, round eyes looked as one might imagine a Seer’s eyes to look. “You think because you’ve stopped paying attention to the world, the world has stopped paying attention to you?” she asked.

Draco was a bit speechless. He looked down at his arm and rolled up his sleeve and showed the girl his obscured Mark.

“Ooh, that’s beautiful,” Luna breathed. She stood up and went for a closer look.

“Beautiful?” Draco repeated quietly.

“The vines, tangling and obscuring such a vulgar symbol, trying to hide it away, push it back, but never quite succeeding. The way they wrap around your arm almost make it look like they are holding the skull to your skin.” She started tracing the vines on his arm. It made Draco uncomfortable, but he was gripped by her strange opinions and didn’t want her to stop talking.

“And you think that’s beautiful?” he asked, too self-conscious to look up.

Luna looked up at him with such intensity that he was forced to return her gaze. “Yes.” Her fingers kept moving while she stared at his face, and her fingers skimmed from the vines over to the Mark, and such pain that Draco had never felt before blazed in his skin.

He clutched his arm and fell, screaming, onto the floor. Luna jumped up. It seemed all she could say was, “Oh, no, oh, no, Merlin, no—“

“Trunk… potion… clear vial… grey…” His words dissolved into tears and whimpers. Luna wasted no time running to the male dormitories.

It seemed to take forever for Luna to return, though it was probably only a few minutes. She applied the salve and almost immediately the burning subsided and Draco was able to sit up. It still hurt and the skin was red and angry. Draco smeared the rest of the contents onto his arm.

“Does that happen a lot?” Luna asked after a while.

“Not really,” Draco said.

“The vial is large,” she pointed out. “And empty.”

“It’s not usually this bad,” he amended.

Luna chewed her lip thoughtfully. “What do you think it means?”

Draco stared at her. “Probably that the bloody Dark Lord is feeling particularly asshole-ish at the moment.”

“Yes,” she said, nodding. “That’s probably correct.”

Draco shook his head. The bird was a strange one. “I gotta go see Snape.”

“Do you want me to walk with you?”

“No, I definitely do not.”

“I know you don’t. I just thought I should ask anyway.”

\---

Draco couldn’t get Luna Lovegood out of his mind as he walked to the Professor’s office. Her bizarre behavior and huge, pale eyes. Her honesty about such strange opinions.

Beautiful. His Dark Mark.

Draco shook his head. It was just Loony Lovegood. That’s what happened when you talked to Loony Lovegood.


End file.
